Hoping for One Hundred
by crearealidad
Summary: Kate's keeping track of their new number. -post 'Always' -


Author's Note: This story contains spoilers up to and including the S4 finale. So if you have somehow managed NOT to be spoiled and haven't seen it, here's your warning.

Additionally this is angst/fluff/porn, if there is such a category. I'm in a weird state of hormone flux and stress and it's doing strange things to my brain. It's not my natural tendency, so be nice.

Also, apparently I was braindead when posting this as I set it to humor for a category and it was never intended to be. Thank you to WhitePawn who pointed this out. All fixed now.

* * *

When morning comes, Kate Beckett realizes that they've reached the twentieth time and she's still counting. It's only taken them a week to get there and at this rate, they'll hit a hundred by the end of next month. She can't help but laugh at herself as she realizes that she's actually keeping track of how many times they'd had sex.

As she opens her eyes, she realizes that this is the first time she's woken first. Perhaps it was her own physical and emotional exhaustion, but part of it was that Castle had been so scared that she'd slip out in the night and disappear, that he'd lain awake, watching her in the dim light of his bedroom, unwilling or unable to take his eyes off of her long enough to sleep.

But this morning, the light is already beginning to spill in through the shades and he's snoring softly, his arms hooked around her waist. She has to shift him back slightly in order to see his face, his lips slightly pursed and his expression slack as he slumbers. The temptation to leave him sleeping tugs at her heart, but they need to get up today.

Soon, they'll go into the station, not as investigators, but as witnesses. Yesterday, the body of his Mr. Smith had been discovered and there was no avoiding the world any longer. When Ryan had called the night before with the news that they'd found files related to her mother's case hidden at the scene of a murdered business man, the bubble she'd been floating in for the past week had burst. In the end, Castle had taken the phone from her, responded to Ryan's questions for her, translating her nods and headshakes to him until they'd agreed to come in today to give full statements.

Once they'd hung up the phone, Kate had found herself shaking, unaware at first of the tears streaming down her cheeks until Castle had gently tried to brush them away. But while the walls had fallen, some of its instincts still lingered and she'd shoved him away, stubbornly burying herself into the corner of his couch. She apologized later, but in the moment, he backed down easily, retreating to the kitchen.

Through her tears, she'd heard him moving about, glasses clinking, cupboards opening and then closing, and the sound of his bare feet padding across the tile. While it couldn't push back the tidal wave of fear that stole her breath, it warmed the rest of her to know that he was still there, and when he returned with two mugs of coffee, she'd accepted it, softening her earlier rejection with a kiss on his cheek.

When he'd finally coaxed her off the couch and back to their bedroom, he'd pulled out one of her sleeping shirts and helped her undress, slipping the soft, stretched cotton over her head before removing his own clothes. They'd settled down into the bed with her back pressed to his chest, his hand stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her obvious tension.

She can't remember what made her turn over, but she had and found that he was crying too. As she kissed away his tears, he'd tugged her tightly against his chest, fiercely refusing to relinquish his hold on her as she brought her palms against his face. They each held tight, refusing to give in, and after a moment, the apologies had begun to spill from her lips. First for pushing him away out on the couch. Then for waiting so long to get here. For being too damaged and too scared to move on. For not quitting when she should have. For letting herself get lost in this case. For the danger that she'd brought to his life, to his family.

It only served to make Castle tighten his grip as he tried to refute her blame, deny that this was her fault. He reminded her that this was a part of her and that she hadn't chosen it, but it doesn't help. Doesn't change the fact that Mr. Smith was dead, they were certain, and there was nothing to deter them from coming after her – and by extension Castle, his family, her colleagues, and anyone else who dared be part of her life.

She pulled herself from his arms then, diving for her phone and calling her dad. Her warning was brief, but her father reacted immediately to the panic in her voice. He will be meeting them at the precinct later and didn't dare to ask if this was related to her mother's case. He knew.

As Kate set the phone back on her nightstand, Castle had drawn her back in, tucked her face against his chest, attempting to soothe her to sleep with promises of making a plan in the morning, reminding her that she needed to rest, to be ready.

But rest wasn't what she needed.

He'd let out a little squeak of surprise, when her hand had met his chest, trailing down his stomach, then to the waistband of his boxers. She felt a little sick and a little drained, but she needed him. Needed a reminder that she was still alive. That she'd chosen to live over falling headlong to her death.

As her hands shoved his boxers down, she felt the confusion radiating off him in waves, his finger faltering on her shoulders as she wrangled the cotton down to his ankles. Then she'd shifted back up, realigning herself with him, wrapping her hand firmly around the base of his cock to stroke it. She'd whispered to him then, something between pleading and explaining that she needed him.

It was enough and his big hands had tightened against her back, pushing upwards as she worked her fingers along him, amazed all over again how quickly he hardened under her touch. She'd kissed him then, sliding her lips across his at one angle after another as his hands molded the cotton of her shirt against her skin, spreading across her shoulder blades and skittering along her spine until she was fairly spinning with sensation.

When she'd finally allowed their lips to separate, he'd eased her onto her back, bringing himself over her, plying wet, heated kisses along her throat and collarbone as he had stilled the hand on his cock, telling her it was too much. As her fingers stilled, they'd worked together to divulge her of her underwear.

They never bothered removing her t-shirt, Castle had just pushed it up over her breasts, kissing and sucking at her nipples until she'd gripped the hair at the back of his head and dragged his mouth back up to hers, sucking and breathing from his lips as he brought his weight fully over her, his fingers sliding between her legs, finding a slow, circling rhythm against her clit. It hadn't taken long before she'd begged him to enter her and he'd been quick to oblige.

Once he slid inside of her, their passion escalated quickly, their lips clinging and scraping against one another desperately as their hips ground and rocked against each other until she came with a rough, shuddered groan that drained every last bit of energy from her body. The heat lingered as their bodies slowly stilled, settling into a quiet pattern of breaths and feather-light touches.

She was nearly asleep when he helped arrange her beside him, her head resting on his extended arm and his free hand slung over her waist. The last thing she remembers is the bed shifting beneath her as he reaches for the blanket, pulling it up over their bodies as the world faded away.

Now, as she considers his relaxed expression with lines of morning sun dancing across it, that twinge of guilt still lingers for the chaos that she has brought to his life. She knows that once he wakes all of that pain from the night before will likely rise once more and she has no idea how long this shadow will continue to linger in their lives.

The only thing she can offer him this morning is something to soften the blow.

Leaning in, she lets her lips brush against his, feathering puckered kisses against them until she feels his eyelids fluttering. The arm slung over her hip tightens, pulling her closer, and she has to tilt up her chin in order to maintain her contact with his mouth. Briefly, she wonders if perhaps she should have made him breakfast, but the thought fades quickly when his fingers curl and drag upwards and she pictures them leaving a flush of red, excited skin in their wake.

"Just five more minutes," he mumbles, his voice slurred in the way that she's already learned means that he's not truly awake and likely won't remember anything she says. It makes her heart tug to hear that tone in his voice and she shimmies against the bed to bring their lips more firmly together.

"Mmmm, Castle," she slurs, laying the words against his skin and tilting her head to use her chin to nudge open his lips. He opens up and she presses her advantage, angling her lips over his and licking at them gently to let them glide softly. His body begins to stir, his knee nudging against her legs as he makes a yawning, moaning sound that tingles all the way down to her toes.

Glancing down, she can see he's already semi-hard and the warmth spreading from him is overwhelming and seems to be releasing his usual scent to swirl around her head. Briefly, she considers sliding under the blankets, wrapping her lips around his cock and looking up to watch the surprise that would wash over his face.

But she knows he's a romantic, sentimental man at heart, if a bit of a kid, and while she's sure he wouldn't object, would probably even encourage her, the weight of their plans for the day tell her that a wake-up blow job isn't really what he'd want.

So as he starts to wake, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand, yawning and murmuring to her unintelligibly, she opts instead to keep her mouth against his, her hand sweeping soothingly across his skin until she can see those familiar blue eyes shining back at her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, dropping a gentle kiss against the tip of his nose. It makes him grin, eyes crinkling and she knows she made the right choice. When she props herself up, easing him onto his back to pepper kisses across his cheeks, he nearly giggles, his grin practically splitting his face. She lets her fingers trace the lines of his chest, over his pectorals and along his ribs, reverently memorizing the lines of him, the scars, and the places where his hair grows thicker or thinner.

Castle watches her hand, mesmerized by her touch. Other than the hand that's still stretched beneath her, which is tracing slow circles on her lower back, he lies back, giving her permission to explore as she tickles her way around his waist. "I want this, you know," she whispers, hand sliding down past his cock over his thighs. "More than anything. And while I regret the trouble that my search has brought to my life and yours, I'm never going to regret having you in my life."

His lips part to speak, but she's quick to lay a finger against them, silencing him with a little shush. Once he submits, she resumes her exploration, tracing her palm and fingers across his thighs, then back up to his hips, watching each twist and thrust and bend of his body in reaction to her touch. "I can't promise that I won't revert to some of my old ways. Trying to hide, push people away. But this…" she explains. "But I love you and I'll come back around. I will."

Kate can't restrain him any longer and she's surprised when his hands hauled her up onto him by her shoulders, settling her against his hips and together they guide him into her. It's much brighter and she can see his face tighten as she lowers herself, arching her back to accommodate him inside of her. Reaching up, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her down into a kiss.

They move slowly against each other and she wonders if he's trying to delay the rest of their day. But his eyelids hang heavily on his eyes and she can feel how tense his stomach feels against hers. He's already close and to her own surprise, so is she. She'd concentrated so fully on him that she'd scarcely noticed the hammering of her own heart or the aching throb of her body as his skin moved against hers.

Their orgasms hit them each quietly, the usual moans and gasps muffles against the other's mouth and lingered in muscle twitches and racing pulses as the morning sun intensified until it the heat of it began to win out against the air conditioning. Parting reluctantly, they'd slid from the bed. He disappears to the kitchen to make coffee and she gets in the shower, returning to find her coffee on the nightstand and Castle already gone to the upstairs shower to get ready.

Neither of them speaks until her phone rings an hour later as they sit in bed, sipping coffee, both dressed save for slipping on shoes. She's not surprised to find it's Ryan – they found more files and he wants them to hurry in – they might have a lead.

When she hangs up the phone, Castle is already sliding on his shoes and handing hers to her. She takes the shoes, almost dropping them when he suddenly remarks, "I'm feeling good about hitting one-hundred."

She knows what he means and just laughs, bending over to slip on her boots. "Me too. You got the coffee?"

He offers her a hand, which she takes, and he helps her get up from the bed then leads her out and replies, "Travel mugs in the kitchen. Let's go."


End file.
